


Holiday Pines

by Hinny_B



Series: Nick Nightly's Bedtime Stories AU [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bittersweet holiday fluff, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Hanukkah, Stan Pines is Jewish, Stan and Carla have a kid, dad!stan, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:35:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28271013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hinny_B/pseuds/Hinny_B
Summary: December 1979: Stan and his family search for the perfect Christmas tree.
Relationships: Carla McCorkle/Stan Pines
Series: Nick Nightly's Bedtime Stories AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1655992
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	Holiday Pines

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do a little holiday piece featuring Stan, Carla, and Abby showcasing some family fluff and flushing out a bit of Stan's relationship with his college friend (and brother-in-law), Greg, and his sister-in-law. I'm going to blame the small child in my life for inspiring Abby's response to seeing the trees. It was too cute not to write in.
> 
> My usual thanks to my editor, Ariel. Kir last minute efforts to smack out the rough edges was appreciated, especially this close to Christmas.
> 
>  _Sunshine at Night_ is still being written, but I had to make the decision to completely finish it before posting more. Which turned out to be a good thing because I discovered a moderate plot hole (this is why I should really write out better notes) and I'm having to rewrite parts. Look for that fic to return to regular updates next year.
> 
> Wishing all my readers a happy holidays and a better new year.

**December 1979**

“I love Christmas,” Carla said, opening the car door and stepping out into the chilly winter air. “It just feels magical somehow.”

“I get it,” Stan replied. Unbuckling his seat belt, he turned to the backseat where their four and a half year old daughter, Abigail sat playing with her toys. “Are you ready for Christmas tree shopping, Sunshine?”

“Yes!” Abby squealed. “We’re getting a Christmas tree!”

“We sure are,” Stan said with a nod. Pushing his door open, he paused and took a deep steadying breath then hauled himself out.

Carla’s enthusiasm for Christmas could be exhausting, what with the decorating, the baking, and the gift wrapping. She applied the same energy to celebrating Hanukkah with him too, but she hadn’t been raised in the faith, so sometimes she went a little overboard. He still didn’t know who she’d found someone to carve a menorah in the shape of a caterpillar for Abby. (Carla and Stan painted it together, which had been fun, even if the kitchen table now had a green splatter on it.)

Shutting the door, he glanced at the nursery they’d chosen to visit. It’s entrance was draped in colored lights and a hand painted sign proclaimed: _Christmas Trees inside. Come Visit Santa’s Shack for Hot Chocolate_.

“Betty says this is one of the best lots in town,” Carla said as he walked around to help her get Abby out of her car seat. He gave a nod to show he’d heard her, glad to be here after last year’s slog through the back country for a tree.

“Abby, sweetie,” she chided. “You can’t bring your toys. Leave them in the car.”

“You wouldn’t want to lose them,” Stan said. The wind picked up, blowing icy bits of new snow at him. He shivered. _Time to zip up the ol’ coat_ , he thought, eyeing both Abby’s open coat and his. “Where are your mittens?”

“In the car.” Abby ducked back in, tossing her toys onto the seat as she did. A moment later she popped back out with them and Carla bent down to help her put them back on and get her coat zipped up.

“All right. Mittens and gloves on? Check. Coats zipped? Check. Daddy has his keys?” His wife shot him a look and he held up the keys.

“Check.” He stuffed them in his front pants pocket. “Mommy got her Christmas cheer?”

“Double check!” Carla exclaimed. Grabbing Abby’s hand, she took Stan’s and began pulling them toward the entrance to the nursery.

The owners had gone all out. Besides the oodles of lights dangling or twisted around every available pole, fence, and building, there were lawn decorations of various sorts. Glittering fake snowmen, light up reindeer, presents, and sleighs, and blinking signs proclaiming “Merry Xmas”. There was no need for fake snow as the real stuff covered the ground and roofs. It’d been thankfully shoveled off the main paths as best as possible. Stan inhaled the sharp scent of pines and other conifers and couldn’t help the calm, warm feeling that nestled into his heart. 

“This way,” Carla said, leading them through the crowd to the back where the Christmas tree lot was set up. She plowed forward, eager to see the trees, but slowed when Abby called her attention to the giant light up candy canes.

“It’s like CandyLand,” she said, awed by the sight. “We’re near the Peppermint Forest.”

“Sorry sweetheart, but those are just decorations.” Carla gave her hand a small tug.

“But we could make our own with those,” Abby said.

Stan had to give her that. They could, if they had a yard to stick them in. Beside him, Carla shifted and seemed to consider this and Stan could almost see her trying to stuff three or four of those on their dinky balcony. Then her shoulders sagged and he knew her realistic adult side had won against Christmas wishes.

“We could, if we had a yard. Which we will, someday. And then we can decorate it with all sorts of decorations and lights, including blue and white ones for Daddy and Gigi.” 

“And me.”

“And you,” Carla amended. “And me too, now.” She shot Stan a smile.

“Thanks, Hot Pants.” Stan gave her a wink and she squeezed his hand.

“You’re welcome, Hot Stuff.”

They started off again, though at a slightly slower pace. Less than a minute later they came to their destination.

To their left was a shed decorated with painted wooden candy canes and strung with garland. “Santa’s Shack: Hot Chocolate 50 cents” was written on a chalkboard hung by a large front window. A woman in a red Santa hat was serving a couple and their two children steaming styrofoam cups of hot chocolate. Stan eyed the cups eagerly, reminding himself to stop by after they’d found their tree. Hopefully they had marshmallows because fifty cents seemed a little steep for chocolate powder in hot water. No marshmallows, no sale. It was how he, Ford, and Shermie used to like their hot chocolate.

Their mother would buy a couple bags of marshmallows each winter and squirrel them away on the upper shelf in the pantry. Then she’d carefully dole them out; one large marshmallow per mug, whenever they came in from playing outside. Their father thought she was spoiling them, but the boys loved it.

Stan hadn’t spoken to either of his brothers in years.

The realization opened up the old wound in his heart, but a quick look at his wife and child reminded him why he hadn’t. His siblings didn’t care about him, but Carla and her family did.

His in-laws were kind and supportive, despite their early wariness. Stan didn’t blame them since John McCorkle had grown up with Filbrick and they hated each other. Once they realized he and Carla were in it for the long haul, (and Stan’s disownment was known) they’d pulled him into their family. Claire even tried to make him feel welcome at the first McCorkle family Christmas at Todd’s house in Portland by making latkes. 

“I know Hanukkah has already passed,” she said, handing him the plate. “But I want you to have something anyway. You don’t eat ham, right? I should’ve reminded Laura of that...”

She was trying and he had to give his mother-in-law that. They all were, and just acknowledging his faith, as fumbling and a little unintentionally rude as it was, Stan never forgot it. He didn’t practice, hadn’t gone to synagogue in years by the first Christmas married to Carla, but there was love in those slightly soggy, overly peppered latkes. Next year’s were better. He’d asked his mother for her recipe and slipped a copy in the mail to Claire.

“There’s so many trees!” Abby exclaimed, breaking free from Carla and running into the rows of trees. She spun in a circle, her arms outspread. “So many trees. It’s like a forest!” Then she took off again.

“Not so fast,” Carla called, darting after her with Stan jogging behind.

“So. Many. Trees!” Abby slowed then pressed herself into the nearest tree, giving it a huge hug.

“I didn’t think she liked trees so much,” Stan said as they caught up with her. “I should rethink her Christmas gift.”

His wife elbowed him playfully. “Don’t even think about it. There’s no way we can have a forest in the apartment.” She gave him a wink and bent over to get hold of Abby’s hand. “Come on sweetie. We’ve got a lot of trees to look at and the day isn’t getting any longer. Onward, mighty Christmas tree finders.”

Stan paused, staring at the tree Abby had been hugging. It didn’t look too bad in his opinion. It had a nice shape, not overly bushy, and the top was straight. He reached over and pulled it up a bit straighter.

“Hey, Carla?”

“Hm?”

“How about this one?” he asked.

She stared at it. With her free hand she motioned him to spin it so she could see all the sides.

“Not bad. A little shorter than I was thinking…”

“Do we want a tall tree?” Stan asked. “I mean, we have two half-grown kittens now and it is a tree. Cats plus tree equal climbing.”

“You have a point. We’ll put it on the consideration list. Now, onwards!”

“Onwards!” Abby repeated.

Stan shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips, and set the tree back down. He was certain that Jelly Bean and Toffee Peanut would find the tree fascinating and bring it crashing down at least once. Thank goodness Claire had sent them a ton of soft, wooden, and straw ornaments when Abby was a baby. He turned down the aisle, following in his ladies’ wake.

They made a festive pair; Carla dressed in a red and white scarf she’d made herself and a matching knit hat, trimmed with fuzzy green yarn and a pom pom on top. Abby’s mittens were bright green and her knit hat was darker with bright green pine trees and pom pom on it. Stan felt a little drab in a burgundy hat and coat and black scarf. At least it had a fuzzy white lining around the neck and hood, so he was almost festive. He chuckled a little at that.

Carla started singing a made up version of “O’ Christmas Tree”, replacing most of the words with lyrics about searching for the perfect tree. Lamenting the weakness of branches or random gaps. Stan couldn’t suppress his laughter.

“Rhyming on the spot is hard, isn’t it Ms. Counselor,” he teased. “Oh, what would your students say when they hear you couldn’t find a rhyme for sparse?”

“Hush you,” Carla replied. “You want to try instead?”

“Considering I just hum as I work, no.”

She laughed. “Abby, tell your dad he needs to up his songwriting skills.”

Abby peeked around Carla’s legs and her face grew stern. “Mommy says you need to up your songwriting skills.”

“What about my tickling skills?” Stan asked, wiggling his fingers and leaning in. “How are those?”

She squealed and bolted down the aisle. Stan tore after her, catching her in a few strides and hoisting her in the air.

“No! No tickles!” she laughed as she kicked and squirmed, trying to escape.

“Zerberts? How about those?”

“Stanley. No. We’re in public!” Carla glared at him, but the smile on her face said she wasn’t serious, she was only saying it to save face. He knew she was right. This wasn’t really the place for this type of play, even if Abby was giggling uncontrollably.

“All right. All right. No horse-play until we find the tree.” Setting her back on the ground he straightened up and looked around them. “Want to try over a row? I think I see one that might work.”

“Now you’re getting into the holiday spirit,” Carla said and followed him and Abby to the next tree. 

Suddenly a voice called out from amongst the trees several rows in front of them. “I thought I recognized that squeal!” June McCorkle stepped into full view and waved at them. “Hello, Pines.”

“Auntie June!” Abby dashed to her, grabbing onto her pants leg and giving her a hug. June squatted down and gave her niece a tight hug.

“How are you?”

“Good. We’re tree hunting.”

June gasped dramatically. “So are we. Greg!”

“I heard you,” Greg said with a laugh, sauntering around the tree June had been behind. “Hey, Little Miss Sunshine.” 

She let go of June and hugged him. “Hi, Uncle Greg.”

“I see you’re gettin’ your tree too.” June stood up and walked over as Greg picked up Abby and swung her up on his shoulders. “We’ve been here for about fifteen minutes and so far, I’ve found a couple that are decent.”

“Decent, she says.” Greg threw Stan a look and they both started chuckling.

“Laugh it up you two, but now we can combine forces,” Carla said, folding her arms across her chest. “Together we shall find the perfect Christmas trees.”

“Or die tryin’,” June added.

“You two can, but we’re going for hot chocolate in twenty minutes,” Stan said. “Or else my nose will freeze off.”

“Oh, we can’t have that. Well, maybe you could take a little off and it’d improve that mug of yours,” June teased. “Like, right here.” She tapped the tip of her nose and he stuck out his tongue in retaliation.

“C’mon June. Let’s leave the men folk to babysit and gossip. We’ll do all the work.”

“Fine by me!” Stan called, waving to them. “Have fun.”

Greg blew a kiss to June. “We’ll send a search party if you’re not back by nightfall.”

Both women rolled their eyes in near perfect sync before rounding them up and dragging them off into the greenery again.

“You good up there Abby?” Stan asked as they walked.

“Ah-unh.” She nodded and clutched Greg’s bare forehead. Why his best friend wasn’t wearing a hat, Stan didn’t know. Maybe he’d lost it? He made a mental note to add that to possible gifts for him. 

“Easy, don’t take off Uncle Greg’s eyebrows. Aunt June will be mad.”

“She’s fine Stan,” Greg assured, reaching up and adjusting her hands. “I won’t be able to do this much longer with her. She’s growing like a weed.”

“That she is,” he said, smiling. They watched June point to a tree, Carla pause then reach over and give it a spin. She leaned the tree back into its holder and they moved on. “So...we haven’t heard from Claire and John yet, have you?”

“About Christmas Day dinner?” Greg asked. Stan nodded. “No, but I’m assuming it’s at Todd’s place.”

“I was hoping since both sisters were here, they’d switch it. Like every other year or something. It would make getting time off easier. H.R. hates when we ask for vacation at the same time, different departments be damned.”

Shrugging, Greg didn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes on June and Carla examining another tree and discussing its merits. “You’d hope, but Todd has a huge house. We’re both in small apartments still. Though, I know you’re saving up.”

“Yeah, our savings took a bit of hit this summer. Still can’t believe Carla’s car threw a rod.” Stan paused, keeping the women in view. “We want something with a yard big enough so Carla can have a vegetable garden and for Abby and any siblings to play in.”

“Same. Though June wants a huge flower garden.”

“Heh, her mom’s flower garden was one of the nicest in town. I picked flowers from it to give Carla when we dated in high school. They were cheaper than the florist. Plus, Ford and I got ourselves banned from there because of one of his experiments.” Stan paused, realizing he’d said Ford’s name instead of saying ‘my twin’. It was something he’d been doing for a while, since he realized Ford was never going to talk to him again. He’d moved to Oregon a couple years back according to their mother, but he’d never called or sent a letter. Stan wasn’t much better, but he’d tried calling a few times only to get no answer or chicken out and hang up. 

Greg noticed. Of course he did. His friend was perceptive and compassionate. Giving him a sad look, Greg reached over and patted his shoulder. 

“I’m sure she loved them no matter where you got them.”

“I don’t know, but I’d like to think so.”

The women determined the current tree wasn’t acceptable and moved on. Stan, Greg, and Abby trailed after them. 

“I’m probably going to regret this, but you didn’t hear from either of your brothers, did you?” Greg asked.

“No. Just old habits rearing their heads. It’s the time of year. All the holiday cheer. It dregs up the good memories.”

“You’re allowed to remember the good times,” Greg said. “They make up parts of who you are. But if either do call and give you sh- crap, I have a shovel and a van and there’s lots of open land.”

“Greg! Shush. Not in front of little ears.”

“I’m just saying...” He grinned and Stan shook his head, trying to suppress the laughter threatening to erupt. 

“Greg? What did you do?” Carla asked. “Why does my husband look like he’s choking?”

“Don’t worry, I’m just plotting the murder of his uncaring siblings.”

Stan sputtered at his friend’s nonchalance. 

Carla stared at them and shot Greg a thumbs up. “I’ll bring the tire iron.”

“I’ll bring the bail money,” June chirped.

“Guys...no. Trust me when I say, you don’t want to go to jail.”

They all laughed, even Abby, though she had no idea what they were really talking about. A few people gave them odd looks, but most were caught up in their Christmas tree shopping. Which, while not turning into the freezing slog through snow that it had been last year, was beginning to wear on Stan. Having little attachment to the activity because, well, he was Jewish, he found it could only hold his attention for so long. Frankly, if it’d been up to him, they’d have snagged the first tree Abby had hugged and be done. But this wasn’t about him, this was about the spirit of the holiday and the little traditions that went along with it. Those were things he could get behind. Besides, now that Greg and June had joined the party, he at least had someone else to talk to. 

“So…” Greg began, dropping back a little to let the women get ahead again. “What do you think about Hawai’i?”

Giving him the ‘stink eye’, Stan grumbled, “You better not be movin’ on me Harper. Just because I followed you once, doesn’t mean I’m doing it again.”

Greg chuckled.

“Uncle Greg! You can’t move. You have to marry Auntie June first!” Abby cried, throwing herself back and nearly taking his head with her. Luckily, Greg’s reflexes were good and he grabbed her arms, pulling her forward again.

“Whoa. Whoa, Missy. I’m not moving anywhere. I just want your dad’s opinion on Hawai’i as a vacation spot.”

“Oh.”

Stan perked up at that. A vacation spot, eh? Something was up, Stan could tell. His friend didn’t drop a romantic place like Hawai’i into conversation without some ulterior motive. Because Greg wasn’t about the big shows of affection, unless it was something important to the other person.

Scratching his chin, Stan pretended to ponder the question. “It depends on what sort of vacation you want. If you’re looking for warm sandy beaches, pricey hotels, but with tropical flair and a hint of...romance.” He winked at Greg. “Then Hawai’i’s your place. I mean, Elvis loved it, how could you go wrong?

“But, if you want something closer to home, say a cozy cabin somewhere. Then I’m pretty sure there’s rentals-”

“You’re assuming I’m taking June-”

“If you’re not, then Carla’s offer of a tire iron still stands and I have a trunk big enough for a body…”

Greg grinned widely, bumping shoulders with Stan. “So quick to throw me to the wolves.”

“Sorry man. I sleep in the same house as her and if I want to continue to, I will take her side.”

“Fair. Fair.” He nudged him again, only to be told by Abby that he was being too wobbly. They were forced to stop their teasing before it really began in earnest. Greg sighed, watching his breath billow out in a small cloud. “I’m going to ask her.” He wiggled his left hand as if Stan didn’t already know what he was talking about.

“You are?” Stan bit down on the smile that wanted to come out.

“Yeah. It’s time. We’re both settled into our jobs and things are good. Real good. We’ve even been talking about having kids. They’re bumping my pay at the station starting on the first of January.”

“Congrats,” Stan said, happy for his best friend. Greg gave him a small smile.

“Thanks.” He paused, his face falling. ”I know things haven’t worked out at the station as well as you’d hoped. I still feel bad they didn’t really give you a shot.”

“It’s not your fault Greg. I’d not done mic work outside of college. They wanted experience and E.J. realized he wasn’t getting other gigs anywhere else, so he changed his behavior.”

“It’s still irritating.”

“Thanks for having my back.”

“You’re welcome.”

Those words warmed him to his core. It’d been so hard for him to accept that people weren’t going to abandon him the way his twin and father had. Greg’s patience was immense, which sometimes aggravated Stan, but he was grateful for it all the same. 

“I call dibs on this one,” June announced, bringing Stan and Greg’s attention to her.

“C’mon,” Carla whined. “I spotted it, I should get it.”

“Ladies, no fighting,” Greg said, lifting Abby off his shoulders and setting her on the ground. “It’s Christmas.”

“It’s December 9th,” they replied in unison, causing Stan to snort. 

“Besides, bickering over the tree is a time honored McCorkle tradition. You should hear Mom and Dad go at it,” Carla continued. 

Stan reached into his back pocket for his wallet and dug into the change pouch. “You’re flipping for it.”

“That better not be a double sided coin, Stan,” June warned.

“You pull that stunt one time-”

“It was more than once.”

He pulled out a quarter and showed it to her, letting everyone see it was a real one. “Heads or tails June?”

“Tails.”

He flipped it in the air. They all watched it spin, turning rapidly as it arched up then plummeted down. Snapping out his hand, he caught it deftly, and slapped in onto the back of his other hand.

“Tails it is. Sorry, Hot Pants.”

Carla pouted momentarily as June started trying to pull the tree from its holder. In the end it took both her and Greg to carry it back to the entrance. Stan and Abby waited as Carla gazed out at the sea of trees.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asked after a moment.

“I don’t know honestly,” she replied. “A part of me is screaming that there are more trees to look through, but I kind of want hot chocolate and to hang out with my sister more. It’s so hard to find time to do that now.”

“The price of being an adult.”

“June and I are better friends now than we were as kids. You know how I was as a teen, all the stupid selfish stuff I did. And now, it’s all different, but... better.” She glanced down at Abby, slipping her hand into hers. “What say we spin in a circle and whichever tree we bump into we take home?”

“Spin me! Spin me!” Abby said excitedly, dancing in place.

“Or-” Stan cut in. “We go see if that tree Abby hugged is still there? Other than being a bit short, nothing was really wrong with it, right?”

Carla stood, shocked, and then smiled. “Yeah. Let’s.”

They headed back to the entrance then turned around and walked back out into the trees, Stan counting four rows in.

There it was.

He couldn’t believe it.

“Well, Abby. Since you found this tree, do you want to carry it?” Stan asked as Carla gave it another once over and confirmed it’d do. Abby shook her head.

“Daddy, you’re kidding. It’s too big for me.”

“Hmm..I suppose you have a point.” He lifted it out of the stand and, to his surprise, found it light enough to carry without help. _Hooray for short trees_ , he thought as they took it to have it measured and priced.

They met Greg and June in line to pay. The group chatted as they waited then, once paid, they trekked out to the cars and loaded the trees on top. Stan remembered twine this year and secured theirs easily enough. Greg and June’s took a bit longer, but in the end the trees were ready to go when they were.

“Hot chocolate?” Carla asked.

“Definitely,” June replied.

They headed back in and waited in line at Santa’s Shack. Much to Stan’s delight, there were tiny marshmallows in his fifty cent hot chocolate. He smiled as he carried both his and Abby’s cups to some picnic tables set up nearby. Another family was leaving and the Pines-McCorkle-Harper party took over. Stan set Abby’s hot chocolate down in front of her.

“You’ll want to wait for it to cool a bit more,” he advised. She nodded. Wrapping her mittened hands around the cup.

Across from him, Greg sipped his drink, half watching him and Abby, half listening to Carla and June compare today’s Christmas tree hunt to past ones. Stan settled in and listened too, keeping some of his attention on his daughter, the same as Carla. She’d glance over at her, determine Stan had it covered and turn back.

Around them people wandered by on their own Christmas tree hunt. Couples, families, the occasional single person. Some bickered, most laughed, and a few sung carols, but they all came away with a Christmas tree.

“Hey.” Carla leaned around Abby, who was tentatively taking a drink of hot chocolate. “You doing okay?”

He nodded. “I’m good. I’ve got my hot chocolate with marshmallows and I get to listen to more McCorkle holiday hijinks. What could be better?” He gave her a wink and she pulled back. 

And he was good. He was with his family and friends and even if the marshmallows did remind him of cold New Jersey winters with his twin, it didn’t consume him. It was like a fire that’d burned down low, leaving warm embers ready and waiting for new logs to be thrown on it. He’d send his mother a couple of postcards, maybe a card with a Polaroid of Abby lighting the caterpillar menorah, but he wouldn’t dwell on what he’d lost. What he had was far more important.


End file.
